


A Touch of Knightly Valour

by doylefan22



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:25:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doylefan22/pseuds/doylefan22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some deeds undertaken by champions are great and noble and will be remembered for generations. Some…not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch of Knightly Valour

**Author's Note:**

> Set in an AU verse where Gwen left Camelot with her bodyguard Isolde and joined up with Morgana and Morgause, forming a group of sword fighting, magical wielding freedom fighters who are looking to bring aid to the common people. Kind of like Xena only less camp and less obviously set in New Zealand. Just as sapphic though.

“How did it get all the way up there?” Isolde wondered aloud, hands on hips. A frown was set on her face, part way between confusion and misgiving. These hateful things couldn’t be trusted in her opinion and she was all but expecting a double cross, an angry attacker flying at her face at any moment.

Gwen didn’t seem to have any such qualms nor suspicions. That was because she was far too trusting by half in Isolde’s eyes.

“Well obviously it climbed.”

Isolde gave her a dry look at that, flicking her long braid over her shoulder like a horse might flick its tail when irritated. Climbed? Yes, she’d figured that much out for herself, thank you.

They’d been riding through the forest, looking for a place to set up camp when they’d heard the howls, loud enough even over the rapid drumming of their horses’ hooves. Gwen’s reaction had been instant, quickly galloping off towards the noise and leaving Isolde only able to do one thing - follow her lead. Isolde was the better horsewoman of the two and she’d passed Gwen swiftly, arriving in the small clearing first. She’d dismounted, well-honed senses alert and ready for trouble, taking only a moment to locate the source of the continuing racket. The look on her face as she realised what they were dealing with was disapproving; she’d expected something far more interesting, her sword already partially drawn.

At very least she’d been expecting some kind of innocent worthy of rescue not… _this_. She’d once promised Gwen, on a fateful night in a dark, Camelot corridor, that she’d follow her anywhere, but this might be a step too far for her dignity.

“Fine then,” she concluded airily, pushing her sword back into its sheath. If Gwen could state the obvious, then so could she. “If it climbed up there, then it can just climb its way back down again.”

She turned to go back to her horse but Gwen was prepared, obviously knowing her too well. She grabbed Isolde’s arm lightly.

“If it could climb down,” she pointed out with infinite patience, “then it would’ve done so.”

As if in answer, their ‘damsel’ - a stranded, ragged tom cat - mewled plaintively, turning in distressed circles on the high branch, clearly looking for a safe way to the ground and not finding one. Instead, it just gazed down at them and howled again in pleading.

Isolde sighed with a huff, feeling like they were ganging up on her. She knew that Gwen was going to say that and now even the damnable cat was staring at her with doleful eyes. And yes, maybe it was the right thing to do, but she hated being guilted into anything. It was in her instincts to not back down.

“So what?” she challenged, hanging on to her resistance a little longer. “We’re rescuing kittens now? Is this our version of knightly valour?”

She sounded cross but there was an unmistakable affection underlying her glare. Gwen’s sense of right was one of the things Isolde loved the most about the other woman. It just wouldn’t be her if she wasn’t rescuing every distressed creature, human or otherwise, that they came across. Isolde couldn’t hate her for that, even if it infuriated her at times. 

Gwen, again knowing her too well - it really was an error of judgement to allow her to get that close, wasn’t it? - just smiled. Secret and playful, as though she knew she’d have the upper hand the moment she spoke.

“You’re my champion, are you not?” she cooed, head held high and confident. “Shouldn’t you want to prove yourself to me?”

Isolde’s eyebrow slowly arched. It wasn’t often that Gwen was in such a playful mood, too serious by half these days, and Isolde could instantly do nothing but take advantage of it. As it took advantage of her.

Damn her.

“Only for fair reward,” she reasoned, gaze roaming over Gwen from behind her heavy lashes. “What’s my queen prepared to offer?”

She’d once been smuggler; making trade and good deals was in her blood, and she’d always been excellent at determining the value of something.

At that Gwen’s smile suddenly softened, shy and full of mixed reminiscent. “I was never coronated, remember?” 

“No, you weren’t,” Isolde agreed, hand brushing Gwen’s warm cheek even as a wicked glint shone in her eyes. “But you are a queen to me. Or, at least, I do like to worship you as such. And I was hoping you might return that…worship.”

Morgana and Morgause arrived, meaning that Isolde barely got to enjoy the sudden flush of Gwen’s cheek as she swiftly read the connotation in those words.

The two sorceresses had been purposely riding a little behind them - Isolde would have accused them of plotting if she didn’t know them better by now. They were far more likely talking about magic - festivals, rituals and incantations that didn’t concern her and Gwen. Or perhaps, if they were feeling frivolous, whispering flirtatious secrets of shared pleasures. In Isolde’s recent experience, sorceresses had passions that would make even the hardiest tavern wench blush. It certainly made them interesting travelling companions and allies.

“What’s the matter?” Morgana asked with a frown of confusion as they both came to a stop, her eyes looking around for the danger she assumed they’d headed to.

Gwen glanced up at the cat once more, an brief indication.

“No danger,” she assured, reading Morgana well too - always well enough to make Isolde wonder what the nature of their relationship had been in years past - “just a cat in a little trouble.”

Morgana followed her eyeline, finally spotting the creature and smiling a little.

“Well that shouldn’t be too difficult to sort out…”

Isolde suspected that Morgana wouldn’t consider rescuing a stuck cat as an important use of her time either. No, these days she tended to be far more interested in jumping in with both feet to punish those she’d felt had done wrong, preferring to leave the ‘little things’ to Gwen. But she’d also probably decided that it was far quicker to just get the thing down than to argue it with their de-facto leader. A wise decision.

She raised her hand, eyes glowing amber in a way that both thrilled and intimidated Isolde. That much power was intoxicating, but she didn’t always trust it. She’d seen what Morgana could do with it when pushed.

She said some short words, crisp and precise, clearly powerful but in a language that only Morgause understood, and…

Nothing. The cat didn’t move, wailing pitifully again as though in derision for her efforts. Like it didn’t think she was trying hard enough.

Morgana frowned in confusion, looking to Morgause for answers.

“Cats are interesting creatures,” the older sorceress explained, shifting in her saddle. “They are seemingly impervious to all magic. Back when we were splintered, before the Goddess brought us together, some of our kind used to keep them as familiars - after all, there was no sense in allying yourself with a creature that could be turned against you by another magic user. Cats, therefore, proved perfect companions.”

Isolde placed a hand on her hip, wondering why Morgause hadn’t just said that before Morgana had bothered trying. Morgause had a habit of testing Morgana like this, allowing her to make errors and then explaining her mistake like she still saw herself as Morgana’s tutor. Morgana never seemed to mind though, just nodding, glad to learn more. 

“Well we can’t just leave him up there,” Gwen stated, returning to the matter at hand. She glanced around her, getting her bearings. “There’s some homesteads less than half a league from there, he probably belongs to them.”

“Then we’ll tell them where he is and be on our way,” Isolde suggested rather hopefully. She really did have no love of cats. Her mother had kept one when she was small, to catch mice that wandered into their bakery. The spiteful creature had always hissed at her and attacked her feet if she ever came too close.

Unsurprisingly, Gwen gave her a dry look at her words. “That’s hardly knightly valour.”

Isolde felt like pointing out that she was definitely no knight but, with the sorceresses now here, she was unlikely to get a flirtatious comment in return - Gwen being all business as such times - and so there seemed little point.

“What would you suggest then?”

“A smelly piece of fish and a lot of patience,” Morgana proposed as she dismounted to survey the situation properly, not entirely joking,

“Or someone climbs up and fetches him,” Morgause countered.

They all looked at one another, no one particularly impressed at such a plan, but stuck as to a truly viable alternative.

“Well, I guess I won’t suggest cutting the tree down then…” Isolde eventually huffed, undoing her sword belt and handing it to Gwen. “Hold this.”

Gwen looked worried. “You’re not going up there?”

“It’s what you want, is it?”

“Well, yes…of a sort. We can’t leave it up there but…it’s very high.”

It was, a good twenty feet at least. Her concern was actually adorable but Isolde pretended it was silly, rolling her eyes. “Please, I’ve been climbing trees since I could walk…”

Gwen still frowned. “Are you any good?”

“I must be; I still have all my limbs, don’t I? Although the fact I’m doing this makes me wonder about bumps to the head…”

She went to the tree before she could change her mind, nimbly shinning up the first few feet, grabbing hold of the lowest branch and swinging herself acrobatically up. She glanced down, noting an impressed look sneaking out from behind Gwen’s worried expression. Good. At very least she might still get a pleasant reward out of this later.

She judged the branches well, figuring out swiftly which ones to use and plotting a path in her head. The cat wailed above her but she frankly ignored him, concentrating on not falling out of the tree herself. She’d be damned if she was going to break her neck for a scrawny, flea infested, ball of…

Finally she reached the top branches - the ones which were most delicate and most precarious. The cat, clearly uncertain of this thing moving towards him, backed up but only had so far to go.

“Be careful he doesn’t fall!” Gwen called out.

“Oh yes,” Isolde muttered sarcastically under her breath as she edged cautiously along a creaking branch. “That is my biggest concern right now…”

The cat really didn’t want to be rescued it seemed, fur sticking up on end whilst he hissed at her warningly as soon as she got close. Well, tough, she’d climbed all the way up here now and she wasn’t going back down without a victory. 

“Come on you,” she cooed, trying to sound as soothing as she could force, voice almost sickly sweet. She reached her hand out very slowly. “Come to Isolde. I won’t hurt you. I’m just going to get your stupid feline backside out of this tree. Then you can run off and annoy some humans and I can go back to the beautiful lady and get-”

The cat was still tense but briefly placated by the tone in her voice. Or at least confused. That changed as soon as she grabbed him by the scruff. The wary cat turned instantly into a hissing, growling, snarling, scratching ball of anger, impossibly agile, thrashing at her with its claws. They caught Isolde across the chest and, as she twisted to try and avoid the next swipe, she lost her delicate balance.

For a moment, when she didn’t strike the floor, Isolde thought that she must be dead, killed instantly by the impact with the ground. When she finally realised that she didn’t _feel_ very dead, she cracked an eye open, a grimace of anticipation frozen on her face. She could see the ground - she could almost smell it in fact, her nose hovering just a few feet from it.

Morgause muttered some words and Isolde glanced across just in time to see the golden eyed sorceress twist and then gently lower her hand, placing Isolde carefully on the ground.

The cat was in Morgana’s arms, caught in what must have been an undignified dive for the sorceress. Not that Isolde particularly cared. She was staring up at the sky, somewhat shocked to still be alive.

Gwen fell onto her knees beside her.

“Are you all right?” she asked, face ashen, hand resting on Isolde’s chest.

That almost made it worth it.

Isolde breathed out a long, heavy sigh of release.

“I hate cats,” she mumbled numbly.

Morgause smiled with a wicked glint. “Not as much as they hate you, it seems.”

The cat had worked its way out of Morgana’s arms and was scurrying off back to its home without so much as a second look at the woman it’d nearly killed. So much for knightly deeds and their rewards.

**********************

“I am so sorry,” Gwen said again, running her fingers over the scratches on Isolde’s chest, inspecting them by firelight to see if they needed treating.

They were shallow but stung like shards of pure dragon’s fire and Isolde winced. Although she couldn’t help the shiver too, Gwen’s fingers effectively caressing over the swell of her breast. It wasn’t much reward but she’d take it.

“Sorry,” Gwen muttered again, noticing her pain and nothing else.

At first the apologies had been touching - and frankly well deserved and therefore lapped up - but after the first couple of dozen, Isolde was beginning to lose patience with them.

“I told you, it’s fine. Cats just have it in for me, remember that next time.”

“You could have been killed,” Gwen reasoned, not following her light mood, voice pained.

“But I wasn’t,” Isolde countered, entirely blase. “Why do you think we travel with sorceresses?”

From the other side of the fire, Morgana looked up.

“So glad to hear you value our company,” she said dryly.

Isolde just grinned. It was a challenging, playful look that she and Morgause shared.

The blonde sorceress joined them at that moment, holding out a small bowl for Gwen.

“This should soothe the scratches,” she explained, before turning her attention entirely to Morgana. She reached out possessively, cupping the other woman’s cheek. “I found a small lake nearby and the water looks refreshing.”

She ran her thumb across Morgana’s full bottom lip and Isolde guessed that she didn’t just have a bath in mind.

Morgana stood, smiling.

“Sounds wonderful,” she said, sliding her hand into Morgause’s so she could be led away. She grinned down at Gwen and Isolde. “Coming to join us?”

“In a moment,” Gwen promised with a softer smile.

As Isolde watched the two of them disappear into the moonlight, barely able to stop touching each other, she rather wanted to just follow them now. But Gwen took a cloth and started wiping across the scratches with such tenderness, that Isolde forgot all about the others for a moment.

“I should take better care of you,” her queen muttered, diligently cleaning the shallow wounds, so close Isolde could feel her breath on her skin.

“I thought I was here to take care of you,” she countered with a gentle smile.

That piece of sweet honest - her mask of hard indifference dropped for a moment - at last, seemed to soothe Gwen and she smiled too.

“We take care of everyone,” she reasoned. “But especially each other.”

And she looked so radiant, smiling like that, that Isolde almost leaned in to kiss her before Gwen’s head dipped and she pressed a kiss of her own right over the scratches.

“You are my particular favourite after all,” she added, smile broadening against her skin.

“Lucky me,” Isolde replied drolly.

A dozen little kisses worked up Isolde’s neck, smoothing the dry look from her face and leaving a true expression of open delight there. She tilted her head back in utter surrender, moaning gently when Gwen finally found her lips. Her hand slid into the mass of dark curls that she’d always loved and been secretly envious of, drawing Gwen close and kissing her slow and deep until the need to breathe forced them apart.

“My queen,” Isolde sighed affectionately, their foreheads pressed together. “Rescuing men, women, children and kittens.”

“And my champion. Doing whatever silly thing her queen wills.”

“It wasn’t silly,” Isolde soothed, hating her to think anything she did was frivolous. Gwen cared, more than anyone Isolde had ever met and that should be nurtured and encouraged. “It was perfectly you and that’s…perfect.”

She kissed her again, lips moving slowly, savouring every moment of this remarkable woman who had even more remarkably fallen for her.

“Come on,” she murmured eventually. “I hear there’s a lake nearby…”

She dragged Gwen up and headed off in the direction the sorceresses had taken. She was hardly surprised to see a trail of clothes as they neared the water. She was even less surprised to see them already entangled in one another, Morgana sitting on the water’s edge and Morgause half in it, down between the dark haired woman’s parted legs, mouth working with a talent that Isolde herself had experienced a few blissful times. Morgana certainly seemed to be in bliss, head thrown back, moans tumbling from her lips as her hands tangled in Morgause’s hair, dragging her close in begging encouragement.

Isolde simply grinned.

Without warning she grabbed Gwen, pushing her up against a tree out of sight of the others - not that they’d like have noticed them anyway - and kissed her with fierce passion. Her tongue demanded entrance, her lips nipping at Gwen’s. One hand undid the lacing on Gwen’s top slightly, mouth diving down to kiss that generous swell of breast, her chest already heaving beautifully. Dear gods, she was heavenly.

“I thought we were joining them,” Gwen reasoned, breathless already as Isolde loosened more ties.

Isolde grinned, that rogue hand going lower, sliding into Gwen’s breeches and caressing her intimately without any teasing pre-amble. From what she felt there, it was clear that little was needed.

“I don’t think they’ll notice for a moment,” she pointed out. “And you did promise me a reward.”

Her fingers curled in a practised way, pressing at the right spot and Gwen gasped, gripping her arms. 

They stayed that way for a moment, Isolde’s fingers moving slowly, Gwen’s hips pressing forward. Then Gwen drew Isolde’s face up, kissing her lips with such passion that it left the other woman off-guard. Isolde let out a small ‘omph’ as she suddenly found herself turned, her own back against the tree, Gwen suddenly firmly in charge.

“I did,” she agreed, unlacing Isolde’s corset with skilled, swift fingers. “And that reward should be of my choosing.”

Isolde wasn’t sure that was technically the case but as Gwen’s mouth lowered and she took an aching nipple into her mouth, she decided that she didn’t really care.


End file.
